Sixteen Wishes

My oldest child, Josiah, turns sixteen today. I cannot believe that it has been so long since that curly haired baby boy arrived in our world. So much has happened over that time; so much has changed. What has not changed, though, is that I have so many things I wish for him.

1. I wish this was a better world for you. Things are a mess. It is so easy for your tender heart to get troubled by the horrors unfolding all around you. Truthfully, this has been your story literally since you were born. And I truly wish that was not the case. 
2. I wish that you did not have to deal with so much hate. We have had so many conversations as you have tried to wrap your mind around how people everywhere seem like they are ticking time bombs, waiting to explode on anyone who looks at them wrong. I wish you didn't have to face that kind of hateful atmosphere. 
3. I wish that you had a better example to follow. I have tried so hard to become a more patient, loving, strong man. I know I've failed you too many times. That keeps me awake at night. I hope I have been enough, but I wish you had better. You deserve better. 
4. I wish that will find your true calling. You have so many talents. You can draw, write, create. You are smart and kind. I want to see you discover something you love where you can change your world. I hope I can help you find that. 
5. I wish that Funko made a Classic Thor POP figure. It is pretty stupid that it doesn't. We share this frustration. 
6. I wish that you meet people who help you to become the best you can be. The Bible tells us that iron sharpens iron. I want you to find people who help to make you an even greater person - people who can help you in ways your mom and I cannot. 
7. I wish that you learn how to be organized. You are NOT the only student who needs to learn this. I still pay the price from not being as organized as I should have been earlier in life. It is vital to be able to organize your life. If only you had an Apple Watch or something to help....
8. I wish that you fall back in love with books. Reading has gone out of vogue with a lot of people. It has been replaced with apps and games. But reading has brought me more joy than just about any other leisure activity. I hope you find something that draws you back to the written word. 
9. I wish that you could master fear. Nobody really ever can completely avoid fear. But, as much as possible, I hope that you can discover freedom from fear. Don't be afraid to try and fail, to get your heart broken, to be the butt of jokes. Sometimes those thing have to happen to bring us where we need to be. 
10. I wish that you liked vegetables. I mean, I hate most of them too. But this seems to be an important thing according to doctors. 
11. I wish that the Earth wasn't so broken. I am not smart enough to know if all of the wacky weather tragedies are due to climate change. What I do know is that one flood is one flood too many. Two floods is just wrong. I hate that you have to see these terrifying storms come around so often. 
12. I wish that you will discover your faith and it will set you on fire. Not literal fire, obviously. But I want you to uncover what you believe, what motivates you and drives you. I want you to find what gets your heart beating and your fire burning.
13. I wish you find love. I don't want you find love so it completes you or makes you worth something. I want it for you so that you can experience what it is like to have someone who is so invested in your life, your wellbeing, your improvement. There is nothing like someone who chooses to love you unconditionally. 
14. I wish you find the perfect cheeseburger. We have had some great ones over the years. I hope that you will keep on trying them and that you will one day find one where you say, "I'm done with cheeseburgers. I can't top that one."
15. I wish you didn't have to feel pain. I know that pain is important biologically. But it really sucks. You have felt pain in your life - and I've hated watching it. The pain of a tuba pulling on your shoulder, the pain of disappointment, the pain of injustice, the pain of rejection. I wish we could learn how to grow without pain. Maybe this should be that I wish you will be able to see through pain and uncover the blessing, the lesson, on the other side. 
16. I wish you will discover the indescribable joy of being a parent. There is an immense amount of pain and exhaustion with being a parent too, but those cannot match the joy of watching a child grow and explore. Watching you march at halftime. Seeing you behind the wheel of a car. Hearing you talk about your future. These things can never be matched. I wish this one for you because you have brought me so much joy. You are an incredible young man and unbelievably precious to me. 

Thirteen Things I Love About My Son

Today, my oldest offspring exits childhood and enters adolescence.  That’s right: I am the father of a teenager.  To be perfectly honest, this terrifies me.  It is like the opening scene of a horror movie.  At least I would assume it is like the opening scene of a horror movie, not ever watching horror movies or ever having a teenager before.  I just know that the teen years are often characterized by people as very combative.  There is a lot of arguing, repeating yourself, wondering where your child’s brain went, arguing, teaching, praying, worrying, arguing, and arguing.  I’m not looking forward to that.  We have always said that Josiah has a lot of similar characteristics to me.  And I was a relatively easy teenager to deal with (compared to the stereotypical nightmare).  So maybe we will be fortunate.  Maybe all of that dread will end up being for naught.  

Either way, to mark the exit of my dear Josiah from child to teenager, here are the thirteen things I absolutely love about my son. 

1. He is unbelievably artistic.

Josiah has always had artistic ability.  Those people who have known him for a long time have marveled at his talents since he was a little guy.  And these have certainly never diminished.  He is an incredible artist.  There are certain styles he likes (Wimpy Kid, Lego, Mincecraft) and he can turn anything into those styles.  It is quite cool to see.  But he also can come up with his own stuff.  I wrote a children’s book and I needed it illustrated.  On a whim, sitting in carline one day, I asked him if he could draw me his version of the character.  Two minutes later, he shows me a picture and asks, “How’s that?”  It was perfect.  It was better than I had imagined it, but exactly how I had imagined it.  So he’s illustrating my book.  I am constantly amazed at his art skills.

2. More than just artistic, he is unbelievably creative.

There is a difference between artistic and creative.  One of the things I have always loved about Josiah is how he can create entire story lines and worlds out of nothing.  He got a stuffed dog for his birthday years and years ago.  Over the years, that dog has expanded to a whole group of stuffed dogs.  Natalie and Gabe also have a large collection of dogs.  Josiah came up with “Puppy World” for these dogs.  It changes and grows.  I will sit downstairs and listen to them playing the latest iteration of it and smile, impressed at how intricate everything is.  Josiah does origami, writes, sculpts, draws, and creates games.  I told him years ago that he has the creativity and brain power to create something on the level of Star Wars or Harry Potter.  I think he could end up like George Lucas, JK Rowling, or James Cameron - crafting a massive universe out of just his own creative mind.

3. His sense of humor

For a long time, I bemoaned that my son had no sense of humor.  I am generally considered a humorous guy.  So it vexed me a great deal that Josiah didn’t get my jokes.  And when he did joke, it wasn’t funny and was often inappropriate (not dirty, just not appropriate for the situation or conversation).  But, as he has gotten older, he has become extremely witty and funny.  Example - I recently purchased a waterproof bluetooth speaker for in the shower because, you know, dancing on a wet surface is a great plan.  I told the kids that it also could do phone calls.  Josiah chirped in, “And it can Face Time.  ‘Hey, AHH! Why am I talking to you in the shower?’”  

4. How he plays with Gabe

There is six years between Gabe and Josiah.  That is a pretty big gap.  My brother and I were five years apart, so I know that there can be difficulties between brothers with that kind of difference.  But Josiah and Gabe play together a LOT.  It may not always be smooth sailing, but it is really neat to see how they play together.  Minecraft, Angry Birds, MarioKart, Puppy World.  There are some days where they play all day together.  Of course, there are some days where they fight seemingly non-stop.  But we’ll focus on the good stuff for today.

5. His sweet heart

Josiah undeniably has a very sweet heart.  He deeply loves the people in his world.  Actually, that love also extends to animals, too.  We have been boarding a dog for on of Heather’s cousins.  The dog had been with us for four months.  He got picked up last weekend by his family so he could be closer to them down in Florida.  Josiah cried for two hours after Jaskee left.  He has that level of affection for things.  I remember when we would go and visit my mom or Heather’s parents.  When we left, Josiah would be despondent.  He missed them so badly.  He knows that Natalie has a hard time sleeping, so he will let her sleep in the top bunk of his room whenever she needs to.  I love the fact that he loves so deeply.  It will make him a great husband and father.

6. He puts up with me

Years ago, my kids came up with the word “funnoying” to describe me.  I was fun and annoying.  Josiah knows this better than most.  I mess with him a lot.  It isn’t a mean thing.  I think it is my way to connect with him and keep a level of closeness without the overt affection that a teenaged boy isn’t fond of from his dad.  Josiah puts up with me and, being honest, I think likes knowing that I care enough about him to be silly with him.  We actually have a very good time together in our silliness.

7. He is (mostly) patient with my ignorance

Josiah is our first child.  So that means he was our first toddler, our first kindergartener, our first teenager… I don’t know what to do in each of these seasons of life.  I try my best, but I am still learning on the job.  I make mistakes.  Josiah seems to understand that, which is awesome.  When I mess up, I apologize and we talk about it.  He knows that I am doing my best.  I know that he is doing his best.  That doesn’t make everything easy, but it means we still love each other through it all.  

8. He’s my movie buddy

Every dad needs a movie buddy.  Josiah is more than happy to go with me.  We have very similar movie tastes, so we look forward to the same films.  Marvel, Hobbit, Pixar.  My brother was my dad’s movie buddy.  I remember how much I wanted to be able to go with them.  It was the coolest thing when I was old enough to finally go and see Hunt for Red October and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  As a dad, I couldn’t wait until he was old enough to go with me.  

9. He is a great kid

There are times I wonder where Josiah’s brain went.  I mean, he is a teenager.  But the fact is that Josiah is a GREAT kid.  The stuff that we wrestle with is so minor compare to so many kids.  He wants to do the right things.  He doesn’t rebel or openly defy us (most of the time).  He stays out of trouble at school.  He doesn’t like it when the kids at school are acting up.  That is a priceless quality to have.  

10. His compassion

Going beyond his sweet heart, Josiah also has great compassion for others.  If he knows someone is hurting, it hurts him.  He empathizes so deeply with them, it makes it hard for him to stay calm.  There have been times where Natalie or Gabe have gotten hurt and Josiah has completely broken down.  Sure, in the moment it makes it much harder to deal with two people in distress than just one.  But I certainly would not want him to lose that compassion.  On those instances where I have hurt myself or have had my RA flare up, he wants to make sure that I get taken care of too.  This will pay off buckets when I am old and need a kid to feed me.  :)

11. His candy hoard

Josiah doesn’t eat his candy.  He hoards it.  Easter, Christmas, Halloween, Valentine’s Day, End of the Year.  When we moved from Orlando and packed up the boys’ room, there were buckets and bags of candy stashed different places.  What is so great about that?  Well, if I am having a hankering for Skittles, I know right where to go.  And, since he doesn’t have any clue how much candy he has, he never knows I just pilfered his stash.  Now that I think about it, that’s a pretty selfish reason.  I’ll try again.

11. His saving nature

Josiah doesn’t like to burn through things.  He hangs onto stuff, like candy or money.  He has saved up money on two different occasions to purchase something he wanted, putting off his immediate desires to get something better later on.  First, he saved up a bunch of money to buy the Lego Death Star.  But he instead used it to help buy our dog, Katie.  Then he saved up enough money again to but the Lego Death Star.  $400.  He gave up birthday and Christmas presents to get enough money saved.  Most kids that age won’t be that willing to save.  This could bode well for his financial future.

12. He is his own person

Josiah doesn’t try to be someone else.  He has his own personality and is content to be himself.  There are times as a parent I am trying to show him how he should change something - comb his hair, wear nicer outfits when going places.  But he is perfectly content to be himself.  He doesn’t like sports.  He knows I like sports.  He wants to be with me, but he just doesn’t like sports.  He likes t-shirts and shorts and tennis shoes.  He doesn’t like my music and doesn’t feel like he has to.  He is comfortable in his own skin.  How valuable of a quality is that?

13. He brings me joy and always has

I’ve told this story before, so I won’t elaborate.  One of the darkest days in US history was September 11, 2001.  The world seemingly fell apart before our eyes.  It was in that swirl of fear and uncertainty that Josiah was born.  As terrified as we all felt, I had this beautiful baby boy that had become part of my life.  It softened the pain and brought joy when there should have been none.  There have been many times where I have found joy in my kids when things were tough.  There are moments now when I am exhausted from work and weary in my body where I will sit on the couch and just watch the boys playing or look at some of Josiah’s artwork and smile.  It is like an external battery charge.  I love that I get to spend time alone with Josiah every afternoon as we wait in the carline for the elementary school to let out.  I love talking to him.  I have no doubt that God has big plans for him.  He is going to have a big impact on the people around him.  I can’t wait to see the man he becomes.  I am honored to be his dad.  Happy birthday, Josiah.  

Like Father, Like Son

It is 9:09pm.  I am just now sitting in my living room with no interruptions - except for the insane dog scratching on a blanket to find a resting place, before tearing off to presumably chew on something new that will cause a scolding once I find it.  Just a few minutes ago, the last of our offspring shuffled off to bed.  Josiah turned eleven today.  He wasn't up celebrating his birthday, though.  He wasn't eating cake and playing with his newest Lego product.  He was doing homework.

With a greater frequency, this is how the last few hours of my day goes.  The kids get home from school.  They want to play and hang out.  Around 4:30, I will earn my "Daddy is a Jerk" plaque by telling them to start their homework.  There was a time when thirty short minutes later one of their bright shiny faces would stroll into the living room.  "I'm done.  Can you sign my planner?"  No more.  Instead, the process spans several hours.  I have to get involved at multiple points to get them to leave each other alone, to put down their toys, to get to work.  It is a super fun way to end the evening.

I was a bit frustrated when I noticed the volume of homework.  "I can't believe they give the kids this much stuff," I mumbled to myself, like some old guy about to go feed some pigeons.  But then I found out that the volume was contributed to by the fact that they didn't finish their work in class.  Or it was a project that was assigned a month prior and put off until the night before.  Then my frustration turned like a precision automobile from teacher to student.  I got the classwork issue fixed.  But the delaying of projects and assignments?  That's a lost cause, I fear.

Josiah is brilliant.  And he knows it.  This is a dangerous combination for any gifted individual.  You hear how smart you are enough, you start to buy into your own hype.  This is bad for several reasons.  First of all, as I am discovering now, you begin to believer your only worth comes from that ultra-impressive brain.  You have to keep manufacturing more and more noteworthy academic accomplishment to gain favor from others.  Straight A's don't cut it after a while.  There needs to be academic tournaments and truckloads of awards.  You only have worth as long as you are flaunting your mind.  That is a bit of a problem when the grades stop, mind you.  At some point, where you finished in your class doesn't matter one little bit.  (You'll probably realize this as you, the valedictorian, are now a subordinate at work to some mouth breather that can't match their socks.)

The other problems are not quite so destined for therapy.  A brilliant student knows they don't need to exert as much energy on work as the average kid.  Their "mediocre" is often better than the majority's best.  That isn't arrogance talking.  (Actually, it probably is.)  It is a fact.  This lack of a need for diligence leads to laziness.  It almost becomes a game.  Just how long can you put off an assignment and still get the desired grade.  I'm not talking about just passing.  A kid like this only deals with one grade.  "What is the least I can do to get an A?"  That is the defining question.  When getting A's isn't a challenge any more, the only challenge is in how little you can do to produce that A.  I remember countless times when my friends and I would have an unwritten contest on just who could do the least possible.  (Want to guess who won?)  In Spanish 1, I don't think I ever did a single assignment at home.  I got to school twenty minutes early, sat at the door to the Spanish classroom, and punched out the work.  I didn't hide it or anything.  The teacher comes by.  "Hi, David.  You get the homework done?'  "No, ma'am.  Doing it right now."  I would study the vocab words for the test the same way - in the hallway before class.

This kind of risk-taking behavior just keeps escalating.  There is a thrill in knowing you got away with something.  It isn't like there were more important things to do which kept me from finishing my assignments.  I just wanted to watch more tv or play more. It had nothing to do with a shortage of time. It had to do with a sick desire to see just how far I could push it.  Crown jewel of this process.  UCF, junior year.  A friend of mine and I are taking an Honors Seminar called "Amazonia in the Age of Development."  Oh, yes, I know.  Absolutely riveting.  The class ruled for a few reasons.  One, the teachers actually took advantage of the fact that the honors department had budgets for their classes for refreshments.  So we had chips, cookies, sodas at every class.  And we had a killer end of the year party with the biggest bowl of shrimp I had ever seen.  The class had one assignment.  If you attended every class without an absence, the teachers would bump your grade up one letter grade.  So on that one assignment, I realized I just needed a B-. You had to pick a research paper or an annotated bibliography.  The paper had to be forty pages with twenty sources.  The bibliography was supposed to be an in depth synopsis of fifty books.  I opted for the paper.  I had never met a paper I couldn't BS my way through.  [In another honors class, I didn't read the book and wrote a paper on it.  The professor returned it and said, "You were dead wrong in your hypothesis.  The author didn't mean that at all.  However, you proved your point so well, I couldn't give you less than a B+.]

This Amazonia paper was going to be my magnum opus.  I didn't even open the textbook all semester.  The first time I opened it was to get the publishing information out for the paper's bibliography.  I started on the paper two days before it was due.  I finished it at 2am on the day it was due.  I printed it out at my friend's apartment (after he finished printing his annotated bibliography). We ran across campus to the professor's office and turned them in five minutes before the deadline.  I got my paper back a week later.  "B-" I was fit to be tied.  I went to see the professor and almost had a conniption.  I reminded her I hadn't missed a class.  "I know.  That takes that into account."  She gave me a C- on the paper.  What!??!???!  "You are planning to go to grad school.  That kind of junk won't cut it there. I'm grading you like a grad student."  But I wasn't IN grad school.  This is an undergrad class.  That paper in this class was a B paper (bumped to an A for perfect attendance).  The professor wouldn't budge.   I hated her.  To this day, I still get worked up about it.  I told that story to Josiah and Natalie's Gifted teacher.  She told me the professor was unfair.  I smirked because I already knew that.  [Yes, I graduated 16 years ago.]

So what was Josiah working on tonight?  Well, he had math and science.  And he had a gifted project that was assigned a month ago . . . that he knew was due tomorrow a month ago . . . that I had repeatedly reminded him about.  Did that stop him?  Nope.  He is my son.  I have tried time and again to warn him about this stuff.  I have told him it is going to bite him in his butt at some point.  But he still thinks he knows best.  I know I never listened to anyone, either.  Sure, once in a while I misjudged just how lazy I could be.  But it never really hurt me.  Tenth grade US History.  I played that fun game where you see just how low of a grade you need on the final to get an A.  I needed a 73.  I hadn't gotten anything lower than an 85 all year on anything.  So I didn't even study for a cumulative final exam in U S History.  I got a 72.  The teacher gave me the extra point.  See?  It didn't hurt me.  So why stop?

Josiah has been learning the states and capitals and abbreviations in school this year.  Every week, they have a batch assigned to memorize.  Every week, they have a test.  Every week, he waits until the last minute.  The first test, I was at a church event the night before.  Heather helped him study and come up with tricks to memorize things.  He got a 104.  The next week, she was gone and I helped him the night before - warning him not to do it again.  He got a 104.  The next week, he came and told me that he had "forgotten" to study.  The test was the next day.  I refused to help him.  I earned the "Daddy is a Jerk" plaque.  I forced him to study it himself.  After he had spent two hours straight looking at it, Heather came home and quizzed him on them.  He ended up getting a 104.  I told him we weren't helping him at all this last batch.  I told him to study them ten minutes a day every day.  The last batch is due on Friday.  Want to guess how many times I have seen him study?  Yup.  Zero.  What's going to happen?  He'll get a 104.

On one hand, I am amazed at his brilliance.  I'm not like Mr. Incredible, almost encouraging the negative behavior.  But it is impressive.  It is also maddening.  I know now how it must have been to be my parent.  I met with his gifted teacher and talked about this.  It is perfectly normal for a gifted student.  And she said no matter how hard she tries - or how hard we try - he is not going to change until HE decides to.  Some comfort.  Right now, he doesn't see the need.  I know I never really saw the need.  I still tried to get away with that junk in seminary - with Hebrew.  It worked on the first semester.  I hit a stone wall in the second semester, so I dropped the class and changed my degree program to one without Hebrew.  (I never finished seminary anyway, so it didn't matter.  Different story.)

Just about once a week, I sit there and shake my head about something Josiah does that just echoes something I did.  He is so much a copy of me in so many ways.  That can be good and bad.  He has many of the same struggles I had.  And he has many of the same gifts I had.  So it is easy to always assume he is doing the exact same thing that I would be if I were him.  But that isn't always true.  There are times when I am convinced he is up to something - because I would have been at his age.  But he isn't.  He is his own unique individual.  And just like it can be frustrating and maddening to be parenting someone so similar to myself, it is also rewarding to see him branch out and do things I never would do.  He doesn't like football.  By his age, I was a complete football nut.  He constructs amazing creations with his Legos.  I never used Legos - those were my brother's toys.  He saved up $140 to buy a big Lego set and then used it to help purchase our (his) dog.  I never in a million years would have saved $140 at his age OR wanted a dog.  He went away to church camp this summer and didn't even call us the first three nights.  He turned down Safety Patrol because he didn't want to get to school early.  He still thinks liking a girl is just ridiculous (or so he claims).  And he just signed up for a robotics class.  These are all things that are completely opposite of how I was.

In so many ways, we are similar.  But I also am intrigued to see how different we end up being.  Either way, Josiah certainly challenges me and pushes me in ways no one else can.  Many times, that is not something I care for too much.  However it is forcing me to examine my own behaviors, thoughts, and habits to make sure I am teaching him the best way to become a man.  I'm sure that isn't his goal.  He just wants to be able to put off his homework and play for another thirty minutes.  It is an interesting by product, though.  I am happy he's my kid - even though I'll have to help him remember Sacramento is the capital of California tomorrow night.

10 for 9/11

I know that I wrote about some of this five years ago (has it been that long already?).  But I wanted to again.  Yesterday, as a nation we observed the tenth anniversary of the worst terrorist attack in our history.  There were tributes running on television almost non-stop for the last week.  Sports teams wore flag decals, ribbons, and bandanas.  The UCF/BC matchup this past Saturday was especially poignant as the hometown Knights actually honored a BC alumni who gave his life in the World Trade Center while leading a dozen people to safety.  You had to be in a cave to miss the tributes; just like it is impossible to forget the event itself.  We all know exactly where we were at the moments the towers fell, when the Pentagon was hit, when the fourth plane disappeared into a field.  We all know precisely where we were when the world fell apart.

I was standing in a labor and delivery suite at the Orange Park Medical Center, awaiting the arrival of my first child.  "You may want to turn on the tv.  A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center."  The happiest and proudest moment in my life collided with the saddest and most terrifying moment.  I know we've told this story so many times, but it is impossible for me to separate those two events.  We were forced to deal with becoming new parents at the same time that we were watching parents lose children and children lose parents.  We were overwhelmed by the crushing grief and fear that emanated from New York and Washington DC.  We finally had to turn off the television once the camera crews started showing the thousands of people holding up hastily made "Have You Seen This Person?" flyers.  It became too real and too overwhelming.

I tried as best as I could to ignore what was going on.  It was virtually impossible.  Everyone was shaken - and understandably so.  We were living in the military-heavy community of Jacksonville.  No one there knew what these attacks meant.  We all knew there had to be retaliation - against who, no one knew.  You could feel the tension everywhere.  I swear to this day that some of the inferior care my wife received was due to the medical personnel being shell-shocked.  After Josiah arrived, we didn't watch the television.  I tried to avoid the wall-to-wall coverage on the internet.  As a result, we actually mercifully missed out on some of the most painful stories after the initial event.

One of my friends up in Buffalo wrote on his Facebook yesterday that he never realized just how much he was still in shock over the 2001 attacks until yesterday.  It was the first time the true weight of what happened hit him full force.  Last night, we had on the "minute by minute" replay of NBC's coverage.  Josiah wanted to watch it, since his birthday always coincides with the anniversary.  But, after five minutes or so, I felt myself getting anxious.  Even though I knew what was going to happen, I was terrified.  After about ten minutes, Natalie just exploded and yelled, "Turn this off!! I can't take it any more!"  She was just devastated at what exactly was happening - the fact that all the people on the planes died too, knowing thousands of lives were going to be lost (in the past).  I understood completely, because I was feeling the same thing.

I don't think I still have ever truly come to grips with what happened.  If I spend too much time thinking about it, I am just consumed by the grief and the scope of it all.  It is enough to bury me.  I remember right after the attacks, that I fell into the darkest depression I ever experienced.  I was so distraught over the loss of life and what this attack meant.  I sat there and looked at my little boy and asked myself, "What have I done?  How could I have brought this little one into such a horrible place?"  I was angry and withdrawn (classic male symptoms of depression).  It took months to escape that dark place.  And I have to be careful to not spend too much time thinking about that day or I can feel the darkness coming for me - like a Dementor attacking in Harry Potter.

I am sure many would call this avoidance.  I don't care.  I call it a conscious choice.  When I look back at that day, I see two enormous memories.  One is dark and horrible.  One is bright and wonderful.  I choose to focus on the second one.

My firstborn son, Josiah, turned ten at 2:11am this morning.  That, to me, is a huge birthday.  I remember my tenth birthday, how I felt like I really was growing up.  I was double digits.  I had lived a decade.  I was in the upper grades of elementary.  So it was a huge deal to me that Josiah was turning ten.  My little boy has turned into a very big boy.  He will be in middle school in two years.  I am very proud of the young man he has become.  He is brilliant and talented.  I am blown away by his artistic talent.  I have told him that between his artistic talent, his brilliant mind, and his knowledge of math and science he has all the tools necessary to create something absolutely incredible.  He could be a George Lucas or James Cameron or Steve Jobs or CS Lewis.

His brain has always impressed me.  Just this afternoon, he was standing in the living room running through all the ways that terrorists could still attack - despite improved security procedures.  The stuff he was coming up with (sleeper cell agents, deep cover agents, attacks using trucks or boats) was right out of Hollywood filmmaking.  The thing is, he's never seen those movies or read those books.  He was just thinking and generated these very intricate scenarios.  He's already created several fictional worlds for his comic books - and of course he's adapted popular ones to fit his needs as well.  I remember last year, he had to write sentences for his spelling words.  So he would write all twenty sentences as a story and incorporate words into each successive sentence.  I was just blown away.

He's always shocked and surprised us.  He sat up in his stroller at three months and was mistaken for a nine month old.  He walked at seven and a half months.  He was carrying gallon bottles of water around our apartment at nine months.  He had all the planets memorized before he was two.  When Pluto was demoted from planet status, I had tons of people come up to me from his preschool to ask me what he thought.  I told them to ask him.  "I think it's dumb.  Some scientists don't want Pluto to be a planet any more.  Doesn't make any sense."  People wanted to know what a preschooler felt about astronomy.  It just cracked me up.

When he was born, I remember watching him through the window of the nursery.  Heather's parents and their close friends, the Delisis, were standing there.  These friends are as close as family - their daughter has known Heather since first grade.  They came up to the hospital to wait for Josiah to come.  When they arrived, they said, "We could stay home and be sad or we could come up here and celebrate life."  We all stood in the hallway after he was born and looked at him.  Mrs. Delisi said something about God having a reason why Josiah was born this way on this day.  "He is going to bring such joy on a dark day.  He already has.  God has something big planned for him."  Josiah himself told me once, "We're going to do big things for God."  It was completely unprompted and something I tucked away.  I don't know what exactly his path will hold, but I feel confident that Josiah is going to be involved in something big.

I choose to focus on my son's birthday.  I choose to focus on the joy and love that having him brings.  It isn't that I don't want to honor those who fell on that day.  I wore a 9/11 memorial badge all day.  I saw a Marine in the restaurant we ate at for lunch and made a point to go and thank him for his service.  I talked to my kids about what 9/11 meant and what happened.  But if we spend too much time being crushed and crippled by that day, that actually dishonors those who sacrificed.  They died to ensure that we can still live our lives and live them to the fullest.  It's kind of like what Tom Hanks' character says to Matt Damon's in Saving Private Ryan.  "Make your life worth this."  I want to make my life worth their sacrifice.  And I want Josiah's life to as well.  I try to teach him about making the most of his abilities, not settling for less than is best.  I don't want him to waste his copious talents.  In future years, we will have the discussion about why he was born that day and what he can do in his life to honor that event.  For now, though, he is still bringing hope and joy for the rest of us just by being himself.

For a long time, I hated the fact that we had to experience his birth on the same day as something so tragic.  But, when I think about it now, I realize that we actually had a wonderful gift in the fact that we had something to amazing and incredible to think about instead.  I really didn't have to go through what a lot of other people did because I had this little baby.  Whenever it got too hard to handle, when the news got too bad, I could hold him and find a place of joy and hope.  It is easy to recognize things like that in retrospect.  I thank God so much that I have had him in moments like those.  And I thank God that he is my son.  He has made me a better man, a better father.  And it has been a true joy and honor to be a part of his life.  And I still can't believe he just turned ten...

When Being First Doesn't Pay

It is not easy to be the first child.  Sure, there are some benefits to it.  Like if you are royalty, being the first born means that you are first in line to the throne.  You can call family meetings.  And you are usually bigger, so you can enforce your will with force if necessary.  So, there . . . you have that going for you.  But, there are two very big problems when you are the first born.  And those two problems are your mom and your dad.

Think about it.  New parents have no clue what they are about to get into.  They may think they do.  They may read and research and watch other people's kids.  But there is just nothing that can truly prepare you for your own children.  When you are babysitting or serving as a nanny, you go home at some point.  Things like doctor bills and schooling and future plans are not your responsibility.  Reading a book will serve you well if your child is a two dimensional sketch on a page.  But when your child is a real life boy, the book doesn't do you a lot of good - unless you use it to throw at the child to stop them from knocking over a lamp.  As a first time parent, you are in completely new territory every single day.

When they are babies, they are small and helpless.  Every day there is the fear that something is going to happen to them.  When they cry for some bizarre unexplained reason in the middle of the night, you jump up and worry.  "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? ARE THEY GOING TO DIE!?!?!?"   We learn it was nothing - and we know better the next time. We have to deal with the feedings and changings and putting to sleep.  And each time, it is a new effort - something you are unprepared for.  Basically, a new parent is winging it.  I don't know what to do in each situation.  I am just doing my best and hoping it is right.

The kid starts to grow and explore.  They begin to crawl and pull up.  They stick things into their mouth - like deodorant, vitamins, money.  "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? ARE THEY GOING TO DIE!?!?!?"  They survive and everything is just fine. We know better the next time. Then they start to walk and talk and interact with their world. And they fall and bang their heads and split their chins on the bathroom counter. "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? ARE THEY GOING TO DIE!?!?!?" But the doctor glues their face back together and they are fine. And we know better the next time.

Next the child continues to sprout like a weed. Now they are in preschool and potty training. They have to interact with other children - learning to share toys, play nice, and not keep touching the one girl's really curly hair. They get in trouble at school. Other kids want to have them come over to play or spend the night or introduce them to new shows and movies that you weren't ready for your kids to see. Now your child is acting like an insane robot and you don't know why. "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? ARE THEY GOING TO DIE!?!?!?" So you make them take a break from the character and know better the next time.

Your boy now is in older elementary. He has his own passions and desires. He develops his own quirks. And he is not your clone - even though you desperately tried for that. So all the weird noises and crazy games and uncontrolled insanity is completely foreign to you. Maybe something happened to this child at some point that you were not aware of. Maybe they have fallen off the monkey bars and banged their head. Or they have been learning subversive messages in their Sponge Bob cartoons. Or they could be part of a massive international conspiracy where children are trained to bring a country to its knees through annoying parents. "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? THEY ARE GOING TO DIE . . . IF THEY . . . DON'T . . . SHUT . . . UP!!!" But it is just a phase and you know better the next time.

As parents. we always know better the next time. With the next kid, we understand not to stress out so bad about weaning and potty training and socialization. Things happen in their time. We become more relaxed and less panicky. We used to carry twenty pacifiers with us everywhere we go to switch out the second one touches something filthy. Now, we carry one and just wipe it off on our jeans. Or, better yet, we forego pacifiers altogether, knowing they are just a big waste of money and the kid is more content to gnaw on a four hundred dollar cell phone instead. When they fall, our first response is not to call 911 before we assess the situation. We scan the room and look for missing body parts. Finding everything still attached, our new goal is just to stem the flow of blood and make the crying stop.

That oldest kid, though, just gets the big shaft. Every single phase they go into is brand new for the parent. We are never prepared. It seems like we are just hanging on, hoping to survive the newest annoying and challenging life change - the arguing, the sassiness, the pigheadedness, the taking their life into their hands on a frequent basis. It just isn't fair for the poor kid. They are just growing up and being a kid and we are freaking out. "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!? ARE THEY GOING TO DIE!?!?!?" Then we take a breath and know better the next time.

Tomorrow is my Josiah's ninth birthday. The poor boy has had to put up with nine years of his father's ineptitude, over-reaction, and hasty (and usually poor) decision making. He has put up with it, and honestly been the best oldest child I could ever have imagined. He is absolutely incredible. The little guy is brilliant, imaginative, talented, silly, and very loving. And he has been extremely patient with me learning how to be a dad. I am glad that he is the first born. He challenges us. He raises the bar and pushes us to be the best we can. Laziness is not an option or we will get run over. I honestly have no idea what he is going to do next - and I have no idea what to do when he does it. I do know that I'll survive and know better the next time. And I"m glad I get to learn these lessons with him.